


In His Image

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Angry Murphy, Angst, Apocalypse, Canonical Character Death, Caring Murphy, F/M, Friendship, Hurt Cassandra, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Possibly Unrequited Love, Romance, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Tragedy, Unresolved Romantic Tension, bites, h/c_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9201032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Murphy and Cassandra never abandon each other until the very end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for h/c_bingo Round 7 for the prompt ‘apocalypse.’ 
> 
> The above prompt goes both ways in that the apocalypse indirectly causes Cassandra’s injury, aka lack of hospital care and sufficient antibiotics, and also because Murphy (kinda) reveals the truth to Cassandra - Apocalypse is Greek for a disclosure of knowledge, kinda revelatory in Murphy’s case since he’s meant to be the world’s savior and it’s not in his nature to give a damn about anyone. 
> 
> The first part is set after that pre-bite scene in the Season 1 finale, and the second part is post-Cassandra’s death in Season 2. 
> 
> **Soundtrack:** Katatonia’s ‘Last Resort’

 

_~And here the air that I breathe isn_ _’t dead_

_Enter life of what_ _’s still here_

_Close the door away from near_

_Shrouded in autumn_ _’s graven ascension~_

* * *

 

The room was cold and quiet and Murphy’s soul, if he even had one, seemed greater measures of both. 

Murphy stroked dry hair back from her face, pale enough to rival Murphy’s deathly gray pallor. He did this for several moments until she seemed to come back to herself, all the while ignoring her mangled leg. There were just some things he couldn’t stomach.

“Didn’t think I’d be spilling my last words to you,” her words were hoarse, and Murphy had to strain uncomfortably to hear her.

He wanted to suddenly be one of those guys who told her there was so much better out there for her, even during their whole hellhole apocalypse, wanted to feed her some bullshit that she lived longer sticking it out with the lot of them, that her sacrifice meant something to all of them.

Fuck it did. Her sacrifice meant shit. A busted leg, that was all it took to bring her down. Not a bullet, not a bite, just a fucking faulty leg...

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, sweetheart. Better make the best of it and spill your guts.”

She coughed at that and Murphy held her head up, his other holding the water bottle he pressed to her lips. It eased the coughing somewhat but Murphy felt even grayer than usual. “What makes you think I have anything to say?”

He ran his thumb down her cheek, admiring her cheekbones. “Darlin,’ I'm probably never gonna give out this offer again, to anyone. And I’m sure you’d like to at least give a big fuck you to the apocalypse, am I right?” All this time he tried to ignore the way she stared up at him, as if she somehow knew what he was about to try. Maybe because he had been mulling it over for days now. Then again, how the hell could she know? She’d been out of it for those days.

“I guess you’re pretty crazy about me, huh?”

He paused, then grasped her hand, so cold he almost pulled away. He squeezed it, smiling down at her and hoping it wasn’t a grimace, wondering how well she could see him, if at all. “Not so good at hiding anymore, am I?” His face broke, and it was all he could do not to pull both his hands away from her and bury his face in them, when she needed them more than he did. “I would have done anything to save you from this, Cassandra.”

“I know.” He turned his face away from her but her hand found his unshaven cheek. It was such a light touch, and her hand almost immediately after dropped back down to the table she laid on, but his heart hammered loudly in his chest from it. It felt like only yesterday they’d met, that was how little time they’d had. “You're not going to give up on me, right?” She said it not because she needed Murphy to promise her, but because she already knew him so well that she just wanted him to voice his confirmation. Truth was, he didn’t think he could do it without his voice cracking. The bite would do that well-enough. He grasped her arm, turned it so that it was underside up, and she stopped him with a soft: “ _Wait_.”

Only Cassandra could get him to stop like that.

“I gotta do this quick, Cass,” he warned, though it was only because of how much he didn't want to see her suffer anymore. They’d have time to figure all this out later. He gave her another moment to catch her breath, his free hand automatically finding its way back to her cheek, thumb stroking in slow, rhythmic circles. It was as much for him as he hoped it was for her.

“On the face,” she breathed out harshly, eyes already fluttering closed. “I don't want to see it. _Please_.” The unspoken _I don_ _’t want to be you._

_I know, baby, I don_ _’t want you to be me either. But the other option isn’t an option, not for me. I can do this for you, so let me…_

He waited patiently until she was unconscious, sure she wouldn’t wake up again in agony or worse… total numbness, and then he bit down into skin that tasted like butter and freedom and promises all at the same time.

* * *

 

_~Thought the bridge was over now_

_Lost the track astray somehow_

_Who_ _’s painting my life in sorrow blue?~_

* * *

 

It was proof enough that Murphy was truly meant to be alone.

It was the price for seeing the mission through, for getting this goddamn bite in the first place. He had to save the world, but by the end of it all he’d be behind the bars he himself constructed in his attempt to get away from this world. No one gave a shit about him, only his blood, and then he’d be tossed into the garbage just like Cassandra. _God_ , if he even believed in a god, _she deserved so much_ better.

 _It_ _’s my curse for turning her, right?_ He raged at the sky. _Because I made her in my image and that isn_ _’t allowed, right? I couldn’t keep her, I couldn’t bring her back to life. Not really. Not to stay._

_Well, fuck all that._

“Goddammit, Cassandra!” He bent over her lifeless form and no matter how inhuman she might have looked to everyone else, she still looked so goddamn frail and fragile and _human_ to him. It was a fucking tragedy that had been wrought upon her, and he could strangle that kid if he thought he could get close enough, drag him down until he wouldn’t get back up again for claiming he had been _forced_ to do this.

Even when he wasn’t there, she had protected him.

He leaned closer, cupping her face in his hands. “You were the only one I ever gave a damn about out of the whole lot of them. Even when you weren't you... it was still _you_. I was gonna bring you back!” He vigorously ran a hand over his face, closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to look at this shit hole of a world anymore. “And I've never believed in any of that better place shit, but I have to for you. I have to believe you’re in a better world than this one.” He let that sink in, the demand that she take nothing less. “But I still wish you’d come back, we’d conquer the world together, you and I.” The thought alone would have brought him down to his knees if he wasn’t already resting on them. “Damn Warren and Doc and the red-head and that damn kid who took you away from me. I only ever saw you, beautiful.”

So _wasted._

He picked her up and held her tightly in his arms, carrying her until he settled himself down on a log and still he _held_ her, unwilling to break the connection. He brushed a kiss over her lips but it was too late; she couldn’t feel anything anymore, couldn’t feel _him_.

Murphy couldn’t have just _one_ thing.

So he was about to seize the world and fuck it up in his own way. 

**FIN**


End file.
